The first alarm rang just before dusk.
Luz was halfway through clearing his gear when the sound tore through the capital—low, sharp, and unmistakable. He froze for a moment, then ran.
By the time he reached the inner walls, smoke was already rising from the outer districts. Vanguard Knights moved in tight formations, shouting orders as civilians were rushed indoors. The air buzzed with unstable manna, sharp and wrong.
"This isn't a drill," Kaelios muttered beside him.
They could see them now—figures moving fast across the rooftops and streets beyond the first gate. Shadow Reign soldiers. Dozens of them. Maybe more.
"They're attacking the relays," a Vanguard Guard captain shouted. "Cut them off before they reach the inner ring!"
The first clash came hard and fast.
Shadow Soldiers poured in without hesitation, blades coated in dark crimson energy. They fought wildly, almost carelessly, as if they didn't care whether they lived or died. Vanguard Knights met them head-on, steel and manna colliding in flashes of light and shadow.
At first, it seemed manageable.
Then the Shadow Knights arrived.
They moved differently—calm, precise, disciplined. Where the soldiers overwhelmed with numbers, the Knights broke formations. A single Shadow Knight stepped forward and cut through a Vanguard line with frightening ease, his crimson manna slicing clean through defensive barriers.
"Formation's breaking!" someone yelled.
Luz felt it then—the pressure. Not crushing like before, but heavy enough to make his chest tighten. This wasn't chaos. It was planned.
"Kaelios, with me!" Luz shouted.
They moved to support a faltering unit near the western passage. Luz focused, channeling his manna carefully, just as Zeus had taught him. His strikes were controlled, strategic—aimed at openings, not brute force. Kaelios covered him, fast and aggressive, keeping the Shadow Soldiers from surrounding them.
Still, it wasn't enough.
A Shadow Knight turned toward them, eyes glowing faintly red. The pressure spiked. Luz staggered as the Knight advanced, blade humming with power.
Before the strike could land, a Vanguard Guard crashed into the Knight from the side, forcing him back. More reinforcements arrived moments later, pushing the Shadow Reign forces toward retreat.
Slowly—barely—the capital held.
By nightfall, the fighting stopped.
Bodies were cleared. Wounded were carried away. The alarms fell silent, leaving behind an uneasy stillness. No cheers followed. No victory cries. Everyone knew this wasn't a real invasion.
It was a test.
High above the capital walls, beyond the reach of torches and watchtowers, crimson manna twisted quietly in the air.
A single figure stood there, unmoving, his gaze fixed on the city below. He watched the wounded being carried away. He watched the Vanguard regroup. He watched two boys standing among the defenders, still breathing.
"That will do," the Crimson General murmured.
The shadows closed around him, and he vanished—his judgment made.
The real battle was yet to come.